


even when it lands

by paravin



Series: last to see the light [12]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Awkwardness, Friendship, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29004096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paravin/pseuds/paravin
Summary: After leaving the Tangled Shore, Crow gets introduced to some key vendors and contacts out in the world, with mixed results.
Relationships: The Crow & Glint (Destiny)
Series: last to see the light [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180733
Comments: 14
Kudos: 52





	even when it lands

**Author's Note:**

> sneaking this in before it gets jossed next season. just some instances of Crow interacting with misc vendors/NPCs after leaving the Shore. varying degrees of dumb.

Someone is calling Banshee’s name.

It takes him a second to recognise it as his own but he’s in no hurry, so he turns to see the small red ghost whooshing after him down the hallway. “Mr Banshee-44!”

“Hey there,” Banshee says. The ghost is on his own, shell twitching anxiously, and Banshee looks around in confusion. “Didn’t you have a Guardian with you?”

“I did,” the ghost says. “I do! He’s just-” He pauses. “You don’t happen to have a security clearance, do you?”

“That I do,” Banshee says, tapping the key card hanging beneath his scarf. “Although if you’re trying to trick me into helping you smuggle goods in, it ain’t gonna happen. My memory’s what’s going, not my morals.”

“No!” the ghost assures him. “No, definitely no smuggling. My Guardian’s just having some, uh, difficulties with the security frames.”

He swings back in the direction he came from, glancing back hopefully, and Banshee shrugs as he follows the little ghost down the hallway. 

“The security frames are pretty alright,” he tells the ghost. “Keep out a lot of contraband. Shoddy weapon mods like that can ruin a perfectly good gun.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” the ghost says, coming to a stop in front of a security checkpoint. “They just, uh. They seem to have mistaken my Guardian for contraband.”

He nods through the thick plasteel window and Banshee takes a step closer to get a better look. About a dozen security frames are in a loose half-circle, weapons drawn and aimed at a panicked Awoken who’s on his knees with his hands raised. The Awoken looks vaguely familiar — although most people do at this point — and Banshee frowns as he tries to remember where he’s seen that black armor before.

“Do I know him?” Banshee asks the ghost. “I feel like I recognise his face.”

“We’re new here,” the ghost says, a little too quickly. “I’m Glint and my Guardian in there is called Crow.” He bobs, eye nearly pressed up against the window. “He, um, might not have been the Vanguard’s favorite person in his old life but he’s a Guardian now! Or he will be. If the security frames don’t shoot him.”

The memory clicks into place, the images of the sneering prince from months ( _years? decades?_ ) ago, and Banshee folds his arms across his chest. “He’s the one who killed Cayde.”

Glint sags but doesn’t deny it, and Banshee looks back out at the Awoken with fresh eyes. 

Cayde’s murderer is younger than he expected, his bright eyes wide with fear as he pleads with the frames, but even after everything that happened, Banshee can’t feel any satisfaction at seeing a Guardian held at gunpoint. Especially not when he’s the one who crafted the guns.

“If I stand the frames down,” Banshee says, “you take him straight to the Vanguard, okay? I don’t want to be responsible for him being here.”

“That’s right where we’re headed,” Glint promises. “We just didn’t expect this much security. Or this many guns.”

Inside the checkpoint, one of the frames pokes the barrel of a rifle against Crow’s temple and Banshee swipes his key card as Crow closes his eyes, bracing for the shot.

The door slides open and the mechanical voice of the frame fills the room, “Charge 144: Failure to surrender on request.”

Crow’s eyes open as they walk in and he kneels up a fraction. “Glint! Did you-”

He’s cut off with a yelp when another gun is held to his other temple as the same frame continues to read aloud, “Charge 145: False accounting. Charge 146: Firing on a Vanguard vessel.”

“Can you shut them off?” Glint pleads. 

Nodding, Banshee moves over to the console, Glint flitting nervously at his side. “I think I can remember the right sequence.”

He taps a couple of buttons as the frame drones on, “Charge 147: Forced prostitution. Charge 148: Forgery of Crucible licences. Charge 149: Fraudulent evasion of agriculture levy.”

Glint hovers closer as he whispers, “Did Crow really do all this? The old him, I mean. I know a lot of people hate him but I didn’t realise agriculture fraud was involved.”

“Nah,” Banshee says, trying a different key code. “Zavala asked me to put out the arrest warrant for him back in the day. I didn’t know the details of everything he did, so I just went with everything on the form.” He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Didn’t exactly expect him to just walk through the doors of the Tower, did I?”

“Maybe we should have thought about this before just turning up,” Glint admits.

The frame is just reaching the end of the gross indecency charges when the screen finally lights up beneath Banshee’s fingers. 

The frames snap back to an ‘at ease’ position, weapons holstered at their sides, and the one that had been reading the charges now gives Crow a pleasant wave. “Welcome, new Guardian. Please enjoy your stay at the Tower.”

“Oh, thank the Traveller,” Glint sighs and makes a beeline for Crow, who is staggering to his feet, overwhelmed. “We’re okay. Mr Banshee-44 turned off the frames.”

Crow nods, still giving the frames a wide berth, and tugs his hood down over his face as he gives Banshee a grateful nod. “Thank you for your help. We, uh- We’re new.”

It’s a strange sensation, like two different memories overlapping until Banshee can’t work out which happened when. Crow’s face is new but not new, and the pulses in Banshee’s systems are hate and sorrow and pity all tangled so closely together that he can’t separate the strands.

His defaults are here for situations like this, an easy execution of familiar programs, and he falls back on one as a crutch when he holds out a hand. “Banshee-44. I’m the gunsmith here, giving you Guardians an edge in the field where I can. Come find me if you need your loadout taking care of.”

It may be a crutch but from the way some of the tension leaves Crow’s shoulders, Banshee isn’t the only one soothed by it.

“We will,” Crow says. His skin is warm as he shakes Banshee’s hand. “Thank you.”

The threads of his memory go again as Banshee turns, leaving the Guardian and his Ghost to make their own way from here, but the sense of satisfaction lingers. 

It’s hard to keep track of them all, so many new Guardians arriving by the hour, but he hopes maybe this one will be good for the Tower.  


———

  
“It isn’t fair,” Glint says. His shell thunks sullenly against the wall outside Zavala’s office and he looks over to where Crow is leaning against the railing. “Why are you the only one who has to speak to the Vanguard? The rest of your fireteam were just as bad as you we-”

Crow raises his eyebrows and Glint corrects himself, “I mean, you all encountered the same professional difficulties. On your strikes. Together.”

Crow smiles. The movement tugs at the lingering bruise on his jaw and he winces as he drops to a seat on the bench by the wall. “It’s okay, you can say it. We were awful.”

“It would have gone better if they’d stopped leaving you behind,” Glint points out, “or nudging you off cliffs when you were lining up a shot, or tripping you so that you missed your grenades, or-”

“I was there, remember?” Crow says, holding up a hand to stop him. “You don’t need to remind me. Besides, I knew what I was letting myself in for — I should have been better prepared.” 

Glint bumps sadly against his fingers but lets out a little trill when Crow tickles along one of his ridges. 

“You seem very relaxed about this,” he says, floating down to Crow’s face to give him a thorough scan. He’s still bruised from the latest strike, although that’s less down to the oppressive forces of Darkness and more because a titan shoved him face first into a wall, but his blood pressure is normal and his heart rate is steady. “I was expecting more nerves.”

“Maybe your optimism is finally rubbing off on me,” Crow teases. “I know Osiris complains about the Vanguard but at least Zavala doesn’t seem like the type to starve me to death for making a mistake.”

Glint twitches at the memory but freezes when he hears a voice from the office doorway, “Not exactly my preferred form of discipline, no.”

Crow scrambles to his feet, straightening the front of his cloak as he stammers, “Commander Zavala. I just-”

“Come in, recruit,” Zavala says. 

He leaves the door ajar and Glint shares a quick look with Crow before following him into the office. He reaches out to Zavala’s ghost on instinct, offering a cheery greeting over the connection, but bobs anxiously at Crow’s side when he gets nothing but stony silence in return.

Leaning against his desk, Zavala looks them up and down. Like so many others, his gaze lingers on Crow’s face a moment too long but it’s regret rather than hatred that flickers in his eyes when he speaks, “I think it’s safe to conclude that sending you out on missions is a mistake.”

Glint recoils. He hadn’t expected anything that severe and from the way his pulse picks up, neither had Crow. “Sir?”

“Between Europa and the disappearance of half the system, we’re stretched thin enough,” Zavala says, cold and stern. “I barely have enough resources to handle the threats we’re facing; I can’t continue sending Guardians just to keep you alive during strikes.”

“With all due respect, Mr Zavala,” Glint pipes up, “the other Guardians were the ones killing Crow.”

“Glint,” Crow hisses, but Zavala just frowns as he checks his mission reports.

“This says you had six deaths to ‘misadventure’. Nothing about any other Guardians being involved.”

“Because they pushed him,” Glint says earnestly but squeaks when Crow yoinks him out of the air, tucking him inside his cloak with a whispered plea to _shush_.

“I know it went badly, Commander,” Crow says, “but I can do this without being a burden. I’ve worked with Osiris before-”

“Even more reason to keep you stationed at the Tower,” Zavala cuts in. “I highly doubt he’s been following Vanguard protocol.”

Glint thinks back to the time when Osiris let Crow take a two hour nap in the middle of a mission and decides that maybe Vanguard protocol isn’t super important.

“If you’re concerned about other Guardians, I can work alone,” Crow tries. “I didn’t have any back-up when I served Spider and I was fine then?”

Zavala arches an eyebrow. “You have an interesting definition of ‘fine’,” he says. “Yet another reason why you should stay out of the way. The _situation_ with your previous self is complicated enough without adding potential retribution from The Spider or his enemies to the mix. I’m sorry but my decision is final.”

Glint beeps in protest, peering out through the folds of Crow’s cloak as Crow steps forward. He can feel the desperation winding taut through his body — even on Spider’s leash, Crow never liked being cooped up for too long — but instead of a plea, there’s resolve in Crow’s voice when he says, “Commander, I know it’s hard dealing with whoever I used to be.”

Zavala’s eyes darken. “That isn’t what this is about.”

“It’s okay if you hate me,” Crow says. “I can’t say I enjoy being shouted at in the streets but I know that whatever I did before, it’s difficult for people to cope with. I’m not asking you to trust me but at least let me help where I can.”

Glint blinks up at him, surprised by the sincerity of the outburst, but Crow pushes on when Zavala hesitates. 

“I’m not him anymore,” he promises. “I know you still look at me and see him, and I can’t change that, but I’m a Guardian now — I just want to help people.” 

He catches his lip between his teeth as nerves rise up in the face of Zavala’s silence but steels himself again. “Commander, please. I can take solo missions, do recon, wherever you’re comfortable sending me. I could even work with Osiris again — he offered-”

“Absolutely not,” Zavala says with a shudder. “I want to instil good tactics in my recruits, not assign them to the loosest cannon the City has ever seen.”

Crow’s eyes light up. “Does that mean-”

“Yes,” Zavala says. He lets out a heavy sigh. “You can return to the strike roster, although solo missions will take priority, given-”

“-the fact that everyone wants to kill him?” Glint chimes in, helpfully.

“Quite.” His tone softens slightly, as he admits, “Perhaps my own feelings have led me to be overly harsh in my assessment of your performance. Especially with your strike team.”

“Oh, no,” Glint reassures him, “they were terrible.”

He yelps as Crow shoves him back down into the fabric. 

“Still, you were a big help to us in dealing with Xivu Arath’s threat to the Shore,” Zavala says, “and Saint-14 has been complimentary about your combat prowess after sparring with him.”

Pressed to his chest, Glint swears he can feel Crow’s flutter of pride as he stands up a little straighter. “Thank you, sir.”

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you still,” Zavala warns. “I won’t allow any Guardian to become a liability to others out in the field. But you make a good point — we shouldn’t be passing up help, no matter what form it comes in.”

He gestures vaguely to Crow’s face and Glint emerges in time to catch the glimpse of sorrow in his eyes. It vanishes in an instant, replaced by his usual severity as he says, “You may take your leave, Guardian.”

“Yes, Commander.” 

Crow nods, stumbling a little with excitement as he backs out of Zavala’s office and Glint spins in triumph once they make it outside. “He didn’t fire you!”

“I didn’t realise that was even an option,” Crow says, exhaling in relief and scooping Glint in for what passes as a hug. “I still get to leave!”

“I don’t think he would physically stop you if you tried to,” Glint points out, “but I’m happy you get to keep doing missions.”

Crow’s cheeks are flushed and Glint basks in the happiness radiating off him as they ride the elevator back up to the main floor of the Tower. This is definitely more what he pictured when he brought Crow back. Although…

He rises up, tucking himself inside Crow’s hood as he makes a polite suggestion, “What do you think about practising your platforming before we run another strike?”  


———

  
“Captain,” Failsafe says, “I would like to make a request.”

At the back of the room, Crow and Glint exchange nervous looks. 

Ghost flies forward, his Guardian in tow. “What is it, Failsafe?”

“I would like you to tear his heart out!” she says cheerfully.

Crow’s pretty sure his gulp is audible across the room as he takes a step back. 

“Failsafe-” Ghost tries.

“Wait, does he even have a heart?” Failsafe says, her tone switching. She pauses for a moment, then lets out an unconcerned beep. “I guess there’s one way to find out.”

“We are not tearing out Crow’s heart,” Ghost says firmly. “He’s different now.”

Failsafe’s lights flash and Crow tries to hide his face beneath his hood. 

“He may have a new name, friendly Ghost,” she says, “but he looks the same to me. I am sure he is still the worst! If I were not an AI constrained within this crashed ship, I would crush his little body myself.”

Crow backs off further. “Guardian, I think we’re just going to go.”

“Excellent decision, new person!” Failsafe says, delighted. “Please take this ‘Crow’ thing with you.”

Ghost spins to look at him but Crow can only offer a bewildered shrug in return.

“Um, Failsafe,” Ghost says, “ _this_ is Crow. He’s a new Guardian.”

Crow offers a little wave but jumps when Failsafe’s hull lets out a bemused rumble.

“Huh. He’s-”

“Yep,” Ghost cuts in. “He used to be that person but now he is not that person and knows nothing about any bad things that person might have done.” He loops back away from the Guardian to bounce at Crow’s side. “We’re friends now.”

No matter how many people Ghost has told, declarations of friendship are still strange to hear, and Crow tries to hide his pleased smile as he looks up at the apparently murderous AI for approval. 

“Well, that’s okay, I guess,” Failsafe says, before switching from hesitant to accusing, “but why has he brought this monster onto my ship?”

Glint’s shell spins in confusion. “Monster? We didn’t-”

“Captain, kill him!” Failsafe bellows. “He spent 17 years on this planet scanning every single rock he could find and talking! To me! The entire time! I thought very hard about shutting myself down forever just to avoid him.” 

Wide-eyed, Crow looks over to Glint, who is scowling. “Well, I don’t remember it like that.”

Failsafe makes a shuddering noise. “I know I am more stable with you as my Captain but if he remains on this planet, I may have to commit some atrocities.”

“I don’t think that-”

Crow scoops Glint up before he can finish and holds him tight in the crook of his elbow to muffle his response. “So we’ll be leaving now.”

“I think that’s wise,” Ghost says, turning to face Failsafe. “Failsafe here is an important ally and we definitely don’t want to disturb her.” He lowers his voice, whispering as Crow and Glint hurry off the ship, “Faster, faster!”

They scramble out of the wreck, transmat firing up, and Crow just catches Ghost’s last comment before they vanish, “How about we go easy on any atrocities, okay?”


End file.
